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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124374">Lost and Found</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocknrollout/pseuds/rocknrollout'>rocknrollout</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Angst, Character Death, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mpreg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:28:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocknrollout/pseuds/rocknrollout</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war and the death of Megatron, Cybertron begins the grueling process of healing. </p>
<p>Vorns later, tensions are still high between the disbanded factions, and the political climate is alienating at best. Of course, things cannot get better until they get worse. Before the voting of a critical bill in the senate, Optimus Prime goes missing. Now, Cybertron is splintering from a violent case of who-done-it. Politicians begin to show their true colors and the peace Prime had fought so hard to build is falling apart. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, light years away from home, Optimus Prime fights to keep himself and his newfound allies alive while in the grips of a slave mine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jazz/Prowl, Optimus Prime/Ratchet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Measurements<br/>Nanoklick-second<br/>Klick-slang, not quite a nanoklick but not a cycle either<br/>Cycle- minute (100 nanoklicks)<br/>Megacycle- hour (100 cycles)<br/>Solar cycle (sol)- day (24 megacycles)<br/>Deca-cycle- week (10 solar cycles)<br/>Orbital cycle (orbit)- month (32 solar cycles)<br/>Stellar cycle (Stella)- year (15 orbital cycles, around 100 human years)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" -Seneca</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cybertron was healing.</p>
<p></p><div class="userstuff module"><p>After millennia of death and suffering, the war was over. It had not ended peacefully, no matter how hard Optimus Prime had tried to come up with a treaty or peace agreement or other such way to make Megatron see the error of his ways. No, things had not ended beautifully. The final battle between the Autobots and Decepticons had been brutal, causing far too many casualties on both sides of a bloody war. The most important one was the death of Megatron at the hands of Optimus Prime. That had literally and figuratively been the final blow to the Decepticon ideals. </p>
<p>After the death of their leader, the Decepticons had scattered and the in-fighting over who would rule in Megatron’s place eventually tore them apart. Now, there were no Decepticons or Autobots, in the eyes of the law; the new senate had decided that, to help heal the divide between Decepticons, Autobots and neutrals, they would outlaw faction insignias entirely. </p>
<p>It had been only a handful of solar cycles under sixty stellar cycles since what everyone began calling “The Great War” had ended. Cybertron still had many, <em>many</em> stellar cycles to go before the reconstruction efforts were completed but things were finally looking up. Everyday life had returned to the planet. </p>
<p>Once news of the Autobots’ win had reached the vast stretches of the cosmos, neutrals and refugees scattered during the war were coming back in droves. Estimates say that, between Vector Sigma being back online, the returning citizens and the thousands of couples sparking each stellar cycle, Cybertron’s pre-war numbers were set to be met within six hundred stellar cycles. A tremendous number, given the population of less than one thousand that ended the war.</p>
<p>Cybertron’s old star— which had survived the war unaffected and would likely outlast every last Cybertronian- was beginning to rise over Iacon, Cybertron’s capital citystate. The glittering skyscrapers held an amber hue at this time of morning; they seemed to glow with a warm light.</p>
<p>In the spark of the citystate, only half a megacycle (given ideal traffic conditions) from the senate and council buildings, stood a structure no more impressive than the rest. It was beautiful, no one could deny that, but to the common observer, it blended in well. That was the intention—for security reasons, the architects had not wanted the building to stand out. The building was an apartment complex for some of the most influential members of Iacon’s population—senators, council members, general celebrities, and even the Lord Prime and his conjunx called the massive building home.</p>
<p>After the war, Optimus Prime had been heralded as the savior of the people— a hero amongst heroes. And even though he humbly refused the countless offers of gifts and other such offerings, he <em>had</em> been swayed on taking residency in the elite apartment complex. After extensive internal debates, he convinced himself that the apartment would be one of the safest places in the citystate to raise a family, something he and Ratchet (bust mostly Optimus) wished for dearly.</p>
<p>Ratchet knew the truth though—when he saw the look on Optimus’ face upon discovering the view from the apartment, he knew they were going to be living there.</p>
<p>Most of the residents in Iacon were still recharging. While the sun had begun to rise, the solar cycle didn’t officially start until a few megacycles later. Unfortunately for Ratchet, someone had not been informed of this social policy and still rose with the sun nearly every sol—no matter how much Ratchet tried to persuade him into staying and recharging for just a couple more megacycles. </p>
<p>Half asleep, Ratchet swung his arm towards his mate’s side of the berth, intent on pulling him in to snuggle. His hand landed on a stiff, Optimus-free mattress. Ratchet blinked his optics online. His hand had in fact <em>not</em> lied to him; Optimus was already up, and from the temperature of the berth, had been so for a fairly long time.</p>
<p>On this particular sol, Optimus had gotten up far earlier than even he normally does. Ratchet vaguely remembered the berth shifting almost two full megacycles before sunrise. His recharge-addled mind had not thought much of it and he fell asleep shortly after, barely even placing the moment in his memory banks.</p>
<p>He sat up slowly, rubbing the tight cables in his neck column; age had not been as kind to him as it had Optimus. His optics were still only half on, creating dark shadows in the sunrise-lit berthroom. Optimus insisted on having the blinds half-open, much to Ratchet’s annoyance. Normally, Optimus was kind enough to close them on his way out of the room.</p>
<p>Still mostly asleep, Ratchet left the berthroom in search of the big oaf. It was not a difficult task, thankfully. Optimus was in a round, low-back lounge chair facing the windows that encompassed one wall of the sitting room. From what Ratchet could see from behind his mate’s back, Optimus also had a data pad in hand that he didn’t appear to be reading.</p>
<p>“You’re up early,” Optimus quietly observed after Ratchet leaned over the back of the chair, resting his head on Optimus’s shoulder and gently wrapping his arms around him.</p>
<p>“So are you.”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t sleep,” Optimus admitted, subspacing the data pad and guiding Ratchet into his lap. Even after millennia together, this move still made Ratchet feel like a youngling in new love all over again. “What’s your excuse?”</p>
<p>“My space heater didn’t close the blinds this morning,” Ratchet snarked, pressing his forehelm against the side of Optimus’ head. He had an inkling that Optimus was not revealing the whole truth but he would let his conjunx come to him in his own time, if he felt the need to.</p>
<p>Optimus smiled, turning his head so that they could press their forehelms together. “I am sorry to have woken you, old friend,” he murmured, his deep rumble vibrating Ratchet’s nerve endings in the sweetest way.</p>
<p>“If you’re so sorry, you’ll come back to recharge with me.”</p>
<p>“I have an early meeting with Senator Arroung, or else I might take you up on that offer. I <em>am</em> feeling unusually tired.”</p>
<p>Senator Arroung was one of the many neutrals to return after the war’s end. He was sharp witted and about as pragmatic as they come, which made him an exceptional voice of the people. That personality trait also meant that you had to come at him with a bulletproof plan or else be torn apart. He was a nice mech, but he could be a bit of a brick wall. There was a new bill making its way onto the senate floor that would require the former factions of Cybertron to be more represented on the council, instead of pretending like they never existed. Currently, the council only had one former-Decepticon representative, which caused Decepticons planet-wide to feel misrepresented and unheard. Optimus and Arroung were vocal supporters of the bill and they needed to come up with a way to sway the opinions of the less open-minded members of the senate and council. </p>
<p>“Do you ever have bad memory files from the war pop up?” Optimus asked suddenly, pulling back a bit so that he could look into Ratchet’s optics better.</p>
<p>The war had left scars on them all. Ratchet couldn’t count the number of bad files he’d had pop up over the stellar cycles, but they were less frequent over recent stellas. “Sometimes. Is that why you’re awake so early?”</p>
<p>“I suppose, though this was not of any memory file I have access to.  It felt remarkably real but I have not lived through this moment. I was trapped. And in blinding pain, a confusing and all-encompassing agony. Someone is crying…there's a sickening laugh echoing around me. It managed to pull me from my recharge cycle completely. I believe it could be called a— what do the humans call them?”</p>
<p>“A dream?”</p>
<p>“Yes, a dream…have you ever heard of a mech recalling brand new memory files in his recharge?” Optimus’ voice was tight and his optics held quiet desperation.  </p>
<p>Ratchet’s servos tightened around Optimus’ shoulders protectively. In all his eons, he’d never felt upset that he could not lie to Optimus. “I haven’t, but there’s a first time for everything.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps it was a premonition from the Matrix,” Optimus forebode, looking out the window towards the slowly rising citystate. Soft light danced off the buildings like performers of an intricate dance seen only in Iacon. There were some bots already awake. It was mostly fliers, who liked the get the sun’s morning rays on their wings.</p>
<p>Ratchet gently turned Optimus's chin towards him so that they were locking optics. “Or it’s just scrambling past Primes’ memories with yours.” While Ratchet loved Optimus Prime with ever fiber in his circuitry, he had never been a fan of Primus or the Matrix. He’d seen the change from Orion Pax to Optimus Prime with his own optics. The Matrix and the leadership it forced upon him had turned a curious, trusting mech into a hardened general with a martyr complex so strong it was a miracle he’d lived through the war.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Optimus hummed. After a moment, he continued, “Thank you for listening to me, old friend.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I’m here for,” Ratchet said, standing up. He placed a comforting hand on Optimus’ shoulder. “<em>Please</em> tell me if this happens again.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Optimus smiled.  He stood up but did not make it far. He stopped halfway, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees. He groaned just as Ratchet felt a wave of nausea ripple across their sparkbond.</p>
<p>“Whoa,” Ratchet eased, placing one hand on Optimus’s arm and using the other to guide his conjunx back into the chair. “Have you had your morning energon yet?” He asked, immediately pulling his handheld scanner from his subspace. Medic protocols were alway hot when it came to Optimus' health. </p>
<p>An orange light ran over Optimus’ frame, scanning all of his internals. Optimus had his optic lenses shut, head thrown back to face the ceiling. “No.”</p>
<p>“Have you been feeling unwell at all the past few sols?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“So, this is completely new?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Ratchet murmured. He gently tilted Optimus’ head to the side and pressed the pad of his thumb against the large vein directly under his neck column plates. He could feel Optimus’ pulse underneath his thumb, as steady and strong as his conjunx. “Your pulse is normal and you’re not overheating. Are you still nauseous?”</p>
<p>“Slightly. I believe I will be fine though,” Optimus opened his optics and since his head was still back, he locked optics with Ratchet. Without realizing he was doing it, Ratchet ran his thumb along the edge of Optimus’ neck cables. Optimus closed his optics and smiled.</p>
<p>Ratchet scoffed. Optimus always thought he would be fine, no matter how much energon he'd lost or what limbs he was missing. Without removing his hand from Optimus’ neck, Ratchet raised his scanner to his face. “I’ll be the judge of that.” The scanner hadn’t picked up any abnormalities, except for a low fuel tank and discontinued recharge cycle. Ratchet huffed, scrolling through the data in search of any abnormalities. There has to be something, nausea does not occur randomly, not in inorganics anyway. “I’m not seeing anything, but I’d like to take you into my office to get a proper scan; the Matrix ruined all of the chest data.”</p>
<p>“You worry too much, old friend,” Optimus said after a pause, walking around his conjunx and toward his office.  </p>
<p>Ratchet scoffed and followed him. Optimus went to sit down, but Ratchet pulled him back and into his arms. “Someone has to keep your self-sacrificing aft alive,” he murmured, tracing his digits along the edge of Optimus’ finials.</p>
<p>“Mmmmm,” Optimus sighed, dropping his head onto Ratchet’s shoulder. “Are you trying to convince me to agree with you through massages?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know…” Ratchet chuckled, pinching the bottom of Optimus’ left antenna in <em>just</em> the right way. “Is it working?”</p>
<p>Optimus laughed, biting the lines of Ratchet’s neck cables gently. “Humm…you’re quite tempting…but I simply can’t cancel my meetings for this sol. I’ll have Cliffjumper cancel my appointments tomorrow, though, and you can give me a <em>full</em> head to ped look-over.”</p>
<p>Ratchet laughed. “You see, that sounds quite erotic but you know that I will be checking every inch of your internals. Professionally.” He bopped the tip of Optimus' nose.  </p>
<p>“I know.” Optimus laughed, wiggling his nose. “Nursery-bot.”</p>
<p>“Without me, Megatron would have ripped you to shreds a deca-cycle into the war.”</p>
<p>“You’re probably right,” Optimus agreed, pressing his forehelm against Ratchet’s. “You should go recharge more, there’s still a few megacycles before you must go to the hospital and I know how overworked you’ve been as of late.”</p>
<p>Ratchet rolled him optics. “Fine, fine, but I’m calling Cliffjumper and checking to make sure you stick to your word.”</p>
<p>“I expect nothing less,” Optimus smirked, sitting down behind his desk. “I will probably have already gone once you wake but I will see you tonight.”</p>
<p>“I will see you tonight,” Ratchet nodded, and with one last smile towards his conjunx, he left the room.</p><hr/>
<p>Optimus was sure he would end up with his head in a waste basket at some point by sol’s end. Not one to get ill often—or ever, really- Optimus was surprised by how long this nausea had lasted. So far, he’d managed to keep his morning meal down, though there had been a couple close calls that had almost ended his meeting with Senator Arroung early. Thankfully, the nausea had dissipated and could be pushed to the back of his CPU to be processed as background data.  </p>
<p>His chronometer pinged a <em>Mid-meal </em>alert, something Ratchet had <em>encouraged</em> him to download—after a few too many missed meals, a dizzy spell that almost knocked him down a flight of stairs, and a megacycle of screaming from Ratchet about basic self-care, of course.</p>
<p>Optimus sent a short message to a close friend, who worked as a General Advisor in the building. ‘Jazz, I was wondering if you’re free right now.’</p>
<p>Jazz replied almost instantly. ‘Always free for you, big guy. What’d’ya need?’</p>
<p>Optimus stood up from the stiff office chair he’d been given as a gift hundreds of stellar cycles ago. His tanks swirled uncomfortably at the change in position. ‘I was actually just wondering if you would like to get a meal together. We haven’t caught up in a while.’</p>
<p>‘Ya caught me at a good stopping point. Meet ya in the dining common.’</p>
<p>‘Affirmative.’</p>
<p>While the capitol had many public spaces, the dining common Optimus used was not one of them. That allowed him to enjoy his meal and not be bombarded by fans or those who simply wanted to brag about their trip to the senate offices. Unfortunately, it did not save him from power-hungry senators trying to gain favor with him, but that is why he enjoyed dining with a friend or two. One glare from Prowl, Ironhide, or even Jazz usually sent the senator skittering away.</p>
<p>He caught sight of Jazz quickly after entering the dining commons. Jazz had picked a small table far from the busy parts of the hall and was waving him down. </p>
<p>“Gotcha a cup already, bossbot,” Jazz said, once Optimus was in comfortable hearing distance. After the war, cubes were reserved for storage once again, allowing bots to enjoy the luxury of drinking energon in receptacles. It was something small but it really helped ground Cybertron into a world of long-term peace. "Loaded with sweetener, doncha worry!" He joked with a wide grin.</p>
<p>Optimus resisted the urge to roll his optics at the nickname. He had long given up on fighting his former warriors about the title. As the human phrase puts it: “Old habits die hard.” And Optimus had many more things to focus on. </p>
<p>“Thank you, Jazz.” Optimus sat down and picked up the large glass. It was warm and quite sweet, just how he liked it. “How have you been, old friend?”</p>
<p>“Oh, same old same old. Prowl’s been workin’ late ever since that Praxus deal with Ambion five kicked into overdrive. Oh, but little Alita started walking!” Optimus’s spark constricted at the mention of Jazz’s precious little daughter. To be gifted a sparkling by Primus was an honor unlike any other. One that Optimus and Ratchet still had not been blessed with. And Optimus would only admit to himself in his own mind that, while he was happy for Jazz, it hurt sometimes to hear about the precious life they had managed to bring into creation. When Optimus had still failed to kindle.   </p>
<p>“That’s wonderful, Jazz,” Optimus said with a soft smile. He took a small sip of his energon.</p>
<p>“Here, I’ve got a little vid of it. Wanna see?” Jazz pulled out a mini-pad and pulled up the video after Optimus nodded.</p>
<p>The viewfinder was centered on the small, black and silver sparkling sitting on her behind. She was smiling up at whomever was holding the camera. “Come on, Lita! Come to sire!” Jazz’s disembodied voice encouraged. Alita grinned up at him and then slapped her little servos on the ground twice, three times, before putting her upper weight onto them and using that strength to push her behind into the air and stand up. She was wobbly but stable enough to swing her legs forward and take four wobbly and uneven steps towards her sire. She fell back onto the ground with a soft “oof” as Jazz cheered.</p>
<p>“She’s quite advanced for her age,” Optimus commented after the video stopped. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jazz replied, with the dopey grin only a creator could have. “I like to think Elita’s watching over her, helping her out.”</p>
<p>Optimus smiled, but it did not feel genuine. The war had taken many things from them. And while he had learned to cope and fall in love again, the reminder of his lost love still hurt. “That is a wonderful thought,” he eventually agreed.</p>
<p>“I’m sure she’s—” Jazz was unable to finish his sentence, since his comm. unit went off. “Oh, scrap, sorry boss, I don’t wanna be rude but I gotta take this. It’s about the new bill.”</p>
<p>Optimus waved off the apology. “I understand, Jazz, do not apologize. It was nice catching up with you.”</p>
<p>“Same to you, boss.” Jazz stood up and walked away— not quite rushing, but certainly not moving casually like he was known to.</p>
<p>Now alone, Optimus stared down into his glass. It was almost empty, and he still had not experienced any nausea. Maybe he was finally rid of the symptom.</p>
<p>“Optimus Prime, sir!”</p>
<p>Optimus sighed silently before turning his head towards the voice. His wave of annoyance was quickly washed away when he realized who it was. “Hot Rod, what are you doing here so early? I wasn’t expecting you for another megacycle. You should still be at academy.”</p>
<p>The young mech bounced into the seat across from Optimus. “My classes got out early. And-before-you-say-anything—!” He rushed right as Optimus began to open his mouth. “I’m not lying this time. You can even call my advisor if you don’t believe me.”</p>
<p>Optimus chuckled. “I believe you, Hot Rod.”</p>
<p>The council had urged Optimus to pick a legacy to the Primacy; they said they wanted him to teach this generation the ways of being a Prime, so that when he stepped down, the transition would be smooth. Optimus had not wanted to, stating that the Matrix does not tell him who is worthy, that he will only know in the moment of transfer, but apparently the Matrix changed its collective minds. During meditation, the Primes of past had practically screamed Hot Rod’s name at him, knocking him right out of his meditative trance. Ratchet said he made a very un-Primely squawk of confusion when he came back to the real world.</p>
<p>The council had almost redacted the request when Optimus told them who he was picking. A youngling with an academic record of poor grades and even poorer obedience? That was <em>not</em> the young mind they wanted Optimus to mold. But Optimus insisted that it was Hot Rod or no one, so they relented. Now, after the shock of being the legacy to the Primacy wore off, Hot Rod came down to the capitol building every deca-cycle to follow Optimus and apprentice underneath him.</p>
<p>“Well,” Optimus said, taking the last sip of his energon. “If you’re going to be here early, I will use this time to teach you the wonders of data pad filing.” He stood up, smiling at the rotten expression Hot Rod was pulling. Optimus cocked his head towards the door. “This way.”</p><hr/>
<p>After the war, there had been a pressing need to establish actual medical facilities for the countless acute and chronic problems bots were facing. It also helped Cybertron to heal and become a self-sufficient planet again.</p>
<p>The first hospital to be set up was in the first major city reestablished—Iacon. Once it was built, Ratchet was picked specifically by the council to lead the operations and take on the title of Chief Medical Officer of the entire hospital. He had been hesitant at first. After a long conversation with Optimus weighing pros and cons, he accepted. If he was being honest with himself, he’s a control freak to his core and knew that If anyone was going to run the place right, it’d be himself.</p>
<p>After many stellar cycles, the Iaconian hospital was no longer the only hospital on Cybertron. It wasn’t even the best hospital; that title went to a hospital in Praxus that had performed the first spark bond separation where both parties lived. Iacon was next in line for best hospital, though (Not that it was a competition. Obviously). And that was mostly due to the CMO and his ability to perform just about every surgery known and bring any bot back from the brink of death.</p>
<p>Even though his skills as a medic were universally renowned, he did not actually work medically nearly as much anymore.  Being the head of a hospital required far more data pad filing than it did lifesaving. Some sols, Ratchet wished that he could give up the position and just be a normal doctor.</p>
<p>This sol, though, Ratchet had an important appointment with a sick senator—a flier by the name of Sunburst- who’d requested him directly. Rarely did Ratchet accept new patients, especially senators who thought they could buy him and his talent, but Optimus had assured him that, while Senator Sunburst could be a bit self-oriented, she was of good character and not as…corrupt as some of the other Senators on the council.</p>
<p>Sunburst had been having severe pain in her muscle cables and from the case file Ratchet had read the sol before, it appeared to be cable degeneration—a deadly condition where the bot’s nanites attack and destroy the muscle cables that hold a Cybertronian's gears together. Without a complete nanite restoration, the bot will no longer be able to move, and eventually, the muscle cabling in their spark chamber will collapse and crush their spark. A horrible way to die.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Sunburst appeared to have caught the problem early. If they’re lucky, they’d be able to run a quick diagnostic check. And, if Ratchet was right, schedule an appointment to scrub her of all nanites and replace them with brand new ones coded to her system.</p>
<p>His HUD showed a small message in the corner from one of his medics that Senator Sunburst was in exam room 11, and waiting.</p>
<p>Well, no reason to make her wait. Standing up from his desk, Ratchet turned the monitor off and grabbed the data pad that held Sunburst’s case file. The exam room was four floors down from his office but within ten clicks, Ratchet had reached the doctor’s office that lead to the many exam rooms.</p>
<p>“Is the Senator behaving herself?” Ratchet asked one of the sub-medics sitting at the main monitor, typing with unparalleled speed.</p>
<p>“More or less,” the sub-medic replied with a quirk of his upper lip. “She’s certainly acting impatient but there have been worse senators in this office.” Without looking up from the monitor, the sub-medic handed Ratchet a rectangular zip drive.</p>
<p>Ratchet plugged the drive into his data pad, which was quickly updated with Senator Sunburst’s vitals. “Well, I guess I better get in there before she gets too impatient. Optimus likes her.”</p>
<p>“Optimus Prime likes <em>everyone</em>,” First Aid snarked from across the room where he was updating a patient’s file.</p>
<p>Ratchet rolled his optics but didn’t reply; he knew it wasn’t <em>quite</em> true but it was better to let that small misconception continue to circulate through the general public. He left the doctor’s room and walked down long, curving hallways with numerous exam room doors—and the occasional supply closet- on either side. He reached Exam Room 11 with good pace and knocked, keying the door open after.</p>
<p>Inside the exam room, there was a berth made of stiff metal with a thin pad on top. There were also two chairs against the leftmost wall, and in one of those chairs sat Senator Sunburst. Her wings were held tightly against her back and she held both hands in her lap, fingers interlaced. She looked the perfect picture of stress and tension.</p>
<p>“Senator Sunburst?” Ratchet asked after the door slid shut behind him. </p>
<p>The senator nodded, rising from her chair and outstretching her hand. “Indeed,” she said with a soft Vosian accent that reminded Ratchet of the wind whistling against energon crystals. “I thank you dearly for meeting with me at such short notice, Doctor.”</p>
<p>Ratchet shook her hand. And now for his least favorite part of taking care of upper-class bots and government officials—formalities. “Please take a seat. May I call you Sunburst or would you rather Senator?”</p>
<p>Sunburst returned to the position Ratchet had found her in. “Sunburst is fine in this office,” she assured, subtly assuring Ratchet that, should he see her outside of the hospital, she’d be expecting formal titles.</p>
<p>“Alright.” Ratchet nodded and connected his data pad to the monitor against the far wall from the door. He sat down in the seat behind the monitor and opened the case file once it had connected. “I’ve looked over your file and I just have a few questions for you.”</p>
<p>Sunburst nodded.</p>
<p>They ran through the basic questions Ratchet had written up before the meeting. Her answers confirmed Ratchet’s suspicions. “From all of the information you’ve given me, and what you’ve given the sub-medics, I believe you have cable degeneration.” Sunburst managed to become even more tense with the news. “Thankfully, it is fully treatable.” After Ratchet reassured her, Sunburst finally relaxed as much as he’d seen so far. She even unclenched her wing couplings. Ratchet went on to explain the disease and her treatment options. “Do you have any questions for me?”</p>
<p>After a long, slightly awkward pause, Sunburst spoke. “Yes." She paused again. "Forgive the informality... but you are Optimus Prime’s Conjunx Endura, yes?”</p>
<p>Ratchet blinked, processor whirling for a reason as to why she would ask such a question. “I am,” he finally said. “What prevalence does it have on your visit?”</p>
<p>With a casual, relaxed air about her, Sunburst said, “I was simply wondering what your thoughts on the letters were, since Optimus Prime seems so blasé about them.”</p>
<p>Ratchet snapped his field in tight. “The what?”</p>
<p>Senator Sunburst looked genuinely surprised. “You… don’t know? I had assumed Prime would have told you about them. He may be upset with me later about it, but I don’t need to constantly be on his good side. For the past orbital cycle, Optimus Prime has been getting letters sent to his office monitor, written by someone who <em>seems</em> to want him dead.”</p>
<p>“He…what?” Ratchet was shocked. In all their centuries together, they’d always been honest and told each other almost everything. And this was certainly something Ratchet should have known about after the first letter. And from Optimus, not some senator he’d never met until now!</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m quite surprised he has not told you about this. He seems to think they are of no concern but the council security has already replaced his monitor, I believe three times and still, he gets the letters. He’s even been getting Enforcer escorts home every night.”</p>
<p>"Well, thank you for telling me," Ratchet said with a formal smile. Inside, he was <em>fuming</em>. Oh, Ratchet was going to strip Optimus bare and sell that moron for parts tonight. </p><hr/>
<p>Optimus spent the next three megacycles teaching Hot Rod how to read something when you didn’t want to. Hot Rod didn’t take to it well, but Optimus assured him that it will come with time. No matter how much he does not want it to. He also allowed Hot Rod to leave early, feigning an excuse about needing to get classified work done. In reality, he just wanted to give Hot Rod every possible klick to just be a kid.</p>
<p>Five megacycles later, a couple megacycles after he’d normally be at home, Optimus was packing up data pads to leave for the night. When his monitor pinged an incoming message. Curious as to whom would be sending him anything when he’s normally out of the office at this time, Optimus clicked on the [Display Incoming Message] button.</p>
<p>            Optimus Prime,</p>
<p>                 I have noticed that red security bot driving you home each night, almost tailgating your rear bumper throughout the three speedways and two slowdrives that lead you to that large, pretty domicile building you and that medic of yours reside in. Does that mean you’re finally scared? The almighty savior of Cybertron is scared? Well, you should be. You've gotten away with too much for too long. It's time for you to go away for a little while. </p>
<p>             You think you’ve managed to keep yourself so hidden and safe, don’t you? I know where you are. I know that you are at work late tonight, alone. I know that your security bot couldn’t be there for you tonight—a prior engagement, much more important than little old you.</p>
<p>             Do you know where <span class="u">I</span> am, Optimus Prime?</p>
<p>             You will.</p>
<p>Optimus closed the message and sat down. This was the most upfront of all the letters he’d received. This mysterious stalker was right, too. Ironhide had needed to go to a family event at his daughter’s school that night. He wanted to get Optimus a different detail but Optimus had insisted that he would be fine.</p>
<p>He was still… mostly sure that there was no danger in these threats. Optimus had been so sure that he’d not even told Ratchet about them. His conjunx was renowned for his overprotective nature and Optimus did not want to cause undue stress over baseless threats. It had seemed rational. At the time. The messages had been nothing more than angry fan mail; the only weird part was the fact that this bot could access his office monitor code. Now though…</p>
<p>He felt the nausea return, but doubted that it was from the same problem.    </p>
<p>Optimus cooled his system with a deep ex-vent and stood up.</p>
<p>He left his office.</p>
<p>He did not make it home.</p></div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Being lost isn't the same as being nowhere. Being lost is worse because there's the hope that you might be found.” -Paul Tremblay, The Little Sleep</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After getting home, Ratchet prepared a meal, put on the planetary news, and awaited his idiot conjux's arrival. He was so ready to rip that idiot to pieces, it wasn't funny. What kind of loving sparkmate doesn't share this type of <em>critical</em> information? After eons together, did Optimus not trust Ratchet? Did he think his sparkmate weak? Whatever the reason, Ratchet was going to get to the bottom of it and let Optimus know exactly how he felt. </p>
<p>At first, when he realized Optimus was late, Ratchet hadn't thought much of it. The Prime was a busy mech, and Optimus was rarely home at a consistent time. Even though he wished Optimus would come home as soon as possible in order to start quite a lengthy fight with him, Ratchet was neither surprised nor bothered by the absence. For now.   </p>
<p>After half a megacycle, Ratchet began to worry. Just a little bit. Optimus was a big mech who could take care of himself. He just, normally called. </p>
<p>After a megacycle and a half, Ratchet called Optimus. He didn't answer. Which was more than unusual. Optimus was the type to send a quick (for him) "my sincerest apologies for being unable to answer this call, I will get back to you soon" message. He never just left someone with no response. Unless he was busy with something that needed his full attention. That hadn't been happening much at all since the war ended. Nothing seemed that pressing after being soldiers for millennia. </p>
<p>Ok, it has officially been two full megacycles after Optimus was supposed to be home and Ratchet was officially panicking. He was pacing a small divot into the living room floor, for Primus sake. Why hadn't Optimus come home? Or called? Or even sent a fragging <em>emotion</em> through their bond? Ratchet was torn between a gnawing worry for Optimus and absolute fury that the stupid mech had kept the letters from him and now something probably happened to him because he was stupid and reckless with his own fragging life.</p>
<p>Before he could work himself up more, the anger was gone. Suddenly, the gentle silence from the bond became an uncontrollable wave of agony. It was like disruptive electricity was flowing through Ratchet's nerve endings from his very core. He collapsed over himself, almost falling to the floor as waves of fear and confusing and pain barreled through the bond. </p>
<p>‘Optimus! What’s happening?’ Ratchet had pinged him before he’d even realized it. Ratchet hadn't felt this type of pain since the war. </p>
<p>There was no reply.</p>
<p>Ratchet collapsed onto his knees, hugging his core as if he could protect Optimus by protecting his own spark. ‘Optimus, <em>sweetspark</em>, answer me. Please.’ Ratchet was so delirious from the secondhand pain that he didn’t notice the [Delivery Failed] message on his HUD. He began to rock back and forth, completely lost in the pain. </p>
<p>Ratchet could not have told you how long he knelt there, drowning in Optimus’ fear. But suddenly all those feelings were gone. Everything, good and bad, was wiped from Ratchet’s spark. The numbness was almost worse than the pain. Optimus hadn’t died, Ratchet could still feel his presence. But other than that…nothing.</p>
<p>‘Optimus?’</p>
<p>[Delivery Failed]</p>
<p>Ratchet stood up, using the couch as a crutch.</p>
<p>He sent a pulse of confusion over the bond, testing the waters. ‘Optimus, you better not be blocking my calls.’</p>
<p>[Delivery Failed]</p>
<p>Ratchet took a slow vent in. He had never been in this situation before. Millenia of war had more than hardened him; he worked well under pressure. But through it all, he had Optimus by his side. </p>
<p>He called Prowl immediately.</p><hr/>
<p>After Ratchet told him the news, Prowl sent out an APB for Optimus Prime’s whereabouts to every law enforcement agency in the city. After not getting anything back from his officers or his own attempts at contacting Optimus, he used his power as Chief of Iacon Enforcement to lock down the city. All exits were shut down; roads, flyways, landing strips, everything. No one goes in or out until they find Optimus Prime.</p>
<p>A kidnapping of any Cybertronian was a big deal. The kidnapping of the Prime was a planet-wide crisis. Prowl did not feel an ounce of regret over enacting such extreme measures.</p>
<p>He walked into the main office of the Enforcer department. “Update me,” he ordered to no one in particular.</p>
<p>“Security footage outside the capitol building has Optimus Prime leaving at 0747 and driving towards the highway. The nearest camera on the highway did not register his entrance into traffic. We are currently scouring all available footage near the capital with no leads,” Red Alert reported from his place behind a monitor.  </p>
<p>“I want to be the first to be told if you find footage.”</p>
<p>“Yes sir.”</p>
<p>Knowing that he could do nothing if he just stood behind Red Alert and watched him work, Prowl did a quick rotation around the various bots in front of monitors. He saw nothing useful on a single screen.</p>
<p>A message popped up on his HUD: [Ultra Magnus Calling]</p>
<p>Before answering it, Prowl walked into his nearby office and locked the door. “This is Prowl, tell me you have something we can use.”</p>
<p>“I believe we have a lead on Prime’s location, sir. We’ve found fresh energon in the alley way two blocks away from the highway.’ Ultra Magnus explained. "Samples have already been sent to Perceptor's lab."</p>
<p>“Good work, Ultra Magnus. Get everything you can from the scene, I’ll send more Enforcers to your location to scout the area. Keep me updated.”</p>
<p>“Understood, sir. Magnus out.”</p>
<p>Prowl took a deep breath, he refused to let worry wash over him. They would find Optimus, he had the whole city looking for him. Bots already assigned to the mysterious letters were working overtime to track the location of the sender; they’d already collected the newest letter and were examining every nano-pixel on it. Whoever had taken Optimus would be found within the night cycle. There was nothing more that he could do for the case.</p>
<p>That settled, he left the Enforcers Department, keeping his comms open and ready for calls, and drove to Ratchet’s apartment.</p>
<p>The building was covered in Enforcers, all of them trying to find any scrap of evidence through interviews, CNA extractions, and basic clue scouting. Prowl didn’t have to give his ID code, the Enforcers at the front gate let him walk through with zero fuss. He’d have to send out a memo about that, it was unacceptable. What if he had been a shapeshifter, aimed at getting to Ratchet? He would normally scold them in the present moment, but he didn’t have the time.</p>
<p>He went straight to Ratchet’s floor. A wide perimeter around the front door was covered in RA (Restricted Access) Tape. Prowl ducked under the tape and walked in. Ratchet was sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the floor while an Enforcer asked him questions. Every meter of the apartment had an Enforcer in it and they were making quite a mess of the normally pristinely kept apartment.</p>
<p>“I don’t have anything more for you, I don’t know where he is and he’s still not responding to me,” Ratchet snapped. He was the picture of stress, his reputation for being a short-tempered mech on full display. “I’m <em>useless</em> right now so why don’t you go do something that’ll <em>actually</em> get our Prime back?”</p>
<p>The Enforcer didn’t react to the outburst, her faceplate locked in a professional expression. “If you’re sure you have no more information, then I have no further questions. Thank you for your time.” And with that, she walked away. </p>
<p>Prowl gave her a short nod of acknowledgement when she passed. </p>
<p>Ratchet leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his optics. He was wound up tight as a jet coil. Prowl could only imagine what he was going through right now.</p>
<p>“Ratchet,” Prowl greeted. Ratchet opened his optics to look up at him. “I’m sorry about the circumstances, but I <em>am</em> glad to see you. It’s been a while.”</p>
<p>Ratchet sighed, failing to smile. “I’m glad to see you too, Prowl. Here to ask more questions?”</p>
<p>“No, I am simply here to comfort a friend in his time of need.” Prowl sat down next to Ratchet, placing his servo onto Ratchet’s shoulder and patting it two times. He was well and truly out of his element.</p>
<p>“If you say ‘there, there’ you’re going to lose the servo,” Ratchet snarked, prompting Prowl to pull his arm away. “You don’t need to be here, you know? I’m sure you have far more important things to be doing.”</p>
<p>“I fear I have become too skillful at delegating and forgot to give myself something to do,” Prowl admitted, placing his hands in his lap.</p>
<p>That rewarded Prowl with a small chuckle out of Ratchet. “So, you came here because you’re bored?” There was a hint of anger in Ratchet’s tone, underneath the sarcasm.</p>
<p>“No, I could have done other things. I came here because I know you’re not allowed to have visitors at present moment. I did not want you to be alone.”</p>
<p>Ratchet sighed, shoulders dropping. “Thank you, Prowl.”</p>
<p>“It’s the least I can do." They didn't speak for a moment, listening to the sounds of enforcers rummaging through personal belongings and Optimus' (non-classified) files. Prowl was going to personally hire a cleaning crew after this; nothing except Primus himself will get those enforcers to clean up after themselves. "I’m sure you’re tired of answering questions, but do you have any questions for me?”</p>
<p>Ratchet appeared surprised but jumped at the opportunity nonetheless. “Yes, actually. I recently learned about a series of threatening letters Optimus has been getting. Is there any validity to that?”</p>
<p>Prowl’s optics cycled in confusion. “Optimus didn’t tell you? This has been an ongoing investigation for the past orbital cycle.”</p>
<p>“I wanted to talk to him about it tonight.” There was an edge to Ratchet's tone.  </p>
<p>Prowl pondered for a moment. “These are the facts. Optimus Prime has been receiving threatening letters to his office monitors for the past orbital cycle. Mostly, they have been tasteless insults and mild threats; nothing concrete or of serious note. Tonight, Prime received a much more direct and dangerous letter, moments before he went missing. We are currently tracking down the sender.”</p>
<p>Ratchet ex-vented slowly. After a klick, he spoke. “That fragging idiot should have called for security before he left the capitol.”</p>
<p>“He’s never been one to think about self-preservation.”</p>
<p>“Primus, I hate how right you are,” Ratchet grumbled, rubbing the crease of his chevron. He must be getting quite the CPU ache.</p>
<p>Prowl can only imagine, he'd be personally combing through every square centimeter of Iacon to get Jazz or Ilita back. “Ratchet, I <em>personally</em> assure you that we will f—”</p>
<p>[Red Alert Calling]</p>
<p>Prowl paused, and stood up as he was answering the call. “This is Prowl.”</p>
<p>“Sir, we’ve managed to crack the transmission code of the sender of those letters. They were sent from an apartment complex on the other side of Iacon. Do you want us to assemble a team to infiltrate and investigate the building?”</p>
<p>“Yes, get Ultra Magnus and Jazz on that team. I’ll meet them there. No one is to enter or be seen until I arrive. Understood?”</p>
<p>“Yes sir, I’ll set everything up right away. Red Alert out.”</p>
<p>Prowl turned towards Ratchet, who looked a mix of confused and hopeful. “There’s been a lead on the letters. I have to go. I’ll keep you updated.”</p>
<p>Ratchet nodded. “Thank you, Prowl.”</p><hr/>
<p>Prowl took side streets and did not use his sirens to get through the heavy traffic of confused and worried citizens. It took him longer than he liked to get to the decrepit apartment buildings, but it was worth it to ensure they didn't raise suspicion. The entire district was in ruins, with trash lining the ground and rust crawling its way up the walls. Prowl began to understand why someone who lived like this would have it out for the Prime. If you live in squalor, it's easy to blame the voice of the people for failing you. </p>
<p>Prowl transformed a block away from the apartment and walked the rest of the way towards the hiding spot Jazz had sent him. There were bots mulling about their night on the streets, but no one looked at Prowl twice. Well, except for the drunk on the side street Prowl had to walk down. </p>
<p>The mech was missing a leg, his entire body was devoid of paint, and he bore the expression of someone forgotten by society. "Whatchu doing here, shiny?" The rusted mech asked. His voice sounded like he'd had his voice box removed and then placed back in without connecting any wires. The static alone made him hard to understand; combine that with the slur in his voice from the highgrade, and Prowl was lucky he knew the mech had said anything at all. </p>
<p>Prowl didn't respond. He had business to attend to. Primus, he barely responded to mechs he <em>knew.</em></p>
<p>"I's talking to you, shiny! You...don' look like sommun who lives here." The mech grabbed Prowl when he walked past. "Yous here looking for Prime, aintcha?"</p>
<p>Prowl attempted to remove the mech's hold on his leg but he was surprisingly strong for someone who looked mere klicks away from meeting Primus. "Let go of me," he ordered, squeezing the mech's wrist in an attempt to get him off. He could not escalate the situation, he did not know what this mech was capable of, and he had somewhere to be. This was not looking good. </p>
<p>"I saw...your Prime, sshinyyyyy, I thought you might wansta know," the mech laughed, finally letting go of Prowl. He leaned back against the wall with a loud thud that didn't sound like it felt too good. </p>
<p>"What did you see?" Prowl asked, arms crossed. He highly doubted the mech had seen anything important but any information was good information right now. </p>
<p>"Saw some mechs driving past like..." the mech paused, attempting to count on his remaining hand. "oh I can't count right now. But I, uh, saw two mechs towing the Prime's alt mode down that very street!" The mech pointed to the street Prowl had just walked down. </p>
<p>"Was this even today?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, yeah, definitely today," the mech nodded, taking a long swig of his highgrade. He burped.</p>
<p>"Which way did they go?"</p>
<p>"Uhhhhhhhhhh~" the mech drawled, thinking long and hard. "Left. No right! No, definitely left! Uh, that way?" the mech said, weakly pointing left with his thumb digit. </p>
<p>Prowl sighed. "Thank you for your help." And then he left. He'd have a few bots investigate that claim but he wasn't going to invest much mech power in the words of a delirious drunkard.  </p>
<p>They’d set up surveillance in an abandoned shop across the street from the apartment. The glass windows were shattered but the squad was grouped in the backroom, completely out of sight.</p>
<p>When Prowl walked in, the room got even quieter. There were six bots there. Jazz, Mirage Ultra Magnus, and Ironhide were sitting on the ground. Well, Ultra Magnus was kneeling. They were listening to a bug Mirage had planted in the apartment. Standard protocol. The discussions seemed to be benign and the voices were foreign to everyone in the room. The other two were Kickfast and Dimmer; younger cadets but good at their job. They were cleaning their blasters.</p>
<p>“Report,” Prowl ordered, crouching next to Jazz.</p>
<p>“Mirage was unable to get inside but he did slip a bug through a cracked window on the fire escape. It sounds like two mechs. They have not spoken anything of relevance so far,” Ultra Magnus explained, making a sour face.</p>
<p>“Ya just missed one of ‘em describing in <em>detail</em> the fragging he’d just got from some femme,” Ironhide groused.  </p>
<p>“I would appreciate it if you did not give further information on that,” Prowl said, which got a snort out of Ironhide.</p>
<p>“So, what’s the plan?” Jazz asked, bringing the conversation back to its original point.</p>
<p>“We don’t have enough evidence for entry without warrant, and therefore, I want units surrounding that building ASAP. Jazz and I will try the front door and see if we can’t get information out of the perpetrators.”</p>
<p>And that’s what they did. Three units of four officers each, and the group camped out in the shop, surrounded every available exit to the apartment. Everyone knew their mission and was connected to the same comm signal, so that when Prowl gave the OK, they would act as one.</p>
<p>Prowl was at the front door, with Jazz and one of the units. The unit was hidden from view.</p>
<p>Jazz knocked on the door.</p>
<p>The door slid open only a click later by a stocky mech with faded purple paint and approximately 1/16<sup>th</sup> of a Decepticon symbol on his chest. He didn't look too impressed. “What’dya want?”</p>
<p>“Hello there!" Jazz said, putting on the charm of a lifetime. "I’m officer Jazz, this is Commander Prowl. I’m sure you’ve heard about our missing Prime.”</p>
<p>The mech nodded, optics narrowing.</p>
<p>“Well, we’re going to apartment buildings in the area right now since we got a tip that there might have been some evidence here.”</p>
<p>“So, you got some tip from a prancy little Autobot that the Decepticon slaghole of Iacon kidnapped your precious Prime, is that it?”</p>
<p>“Not exactly!” Jazz said with a practiced smile. “May we come in and have a talk?”</p>
<p>“Yeah~” the mech drawled. “No.”</p>
<p>He tried to slide the door shut but Prowl placed his arm in the way. It bounced open from programming. “We have evidence that someone in this apartment has been sending threatening letters to our Prime and therefore, you are going to talk with us here or at our station. We have enough evidence to take anyone and everyone currently inside into Enforcement custody.”</p>
<p>The mech ground his denta together. “We really doing this?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” the mech moved out of the way so that Prowl and Jazz could come inside. As they were walking in, chaos erupted.</p>
<p>A mech from the other side of the room, once he’d seen them, bolted. Jazz reacted faster than Prowl did and was immediately in pursuit. “He’s heading for the fire escape.”</p>
<p>Prowl raised his weapon to the purple mech, who threw his arms in the air in surrender.</p>
<p>The mech ran into a nearby room and pressed the button to open the window. The moment he’d gotten out, he ran straight into the imposing figure of Ultra Magnus, who had him pinned to the wall and in stasis cuffs klicks later.</p>
<p>Ultra Magnus pushed the mech through the window and into Jazz’s custody. The mech was bigger than his companion, with green and black paint in good shape. He also sported a scarred Decepticon insignia. </p>
<p>In the chaos, Prowl had put the purple mech in cuffs.</p>
<p>“Kicker, what the frag is up with you?” The purple mech yelled, pulling against Prowl’s grip, towards the green mech—Kicker.</p>
<p>Kicker didn’t seem like he had anything to say; he looked down at the floor and twisted in Jazz’s arms with the force of a petulant sparkling.</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” Prowl ordered, turning the purple mech around and guiding him towards the door.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes.”<br/>― George Orwell, 1984</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry that this took forever to come out. I'm a senior in college and a full time employee and there's only so many hours in the day. I hope you enjoy! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Also, yes, things are only going to get worse before they get better. Buckle up!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Three Hours Before the Previous Events</em>
</p>
<p>Oh, Optimus messed up. Royally. The moment he started driving, he knew he was being followed. The three triple-changers, all of identical paint colors, were keeping their distance but that didn't matter. Not to a mech who spent millennia looking over both shoulders to prevent surprise attacks during the war. He didn't know what they wanted from him, but he knew he couldn't lead them home. Where he lived wasn't public knowledge  but it wasn't a strongly held secret either. That didn't mean he was just going to risk Ratchet's life by bringing three brutes with unknown intentions home with him.</p>
<p>Optimus deliberately missed the on-ramp of the superhighway he normally took home. He might be able to lose them if they don't know where he's going. Should he head to the nearest Enforcers station? It was unlikely the mechs would come anywhere near one but that doesn't mean they won't find him the moment he leaves. And if he was to get an escort, he'd just be putting more lives at risk. Frag, should he comm Prowl? Or Jazz? Or Magnus? he should probably at least comm Prowl so there's a record if something were to happen. </p>
<p>[Delivery Failed]</p>
<p>[Error 561, range]</p>
<p>Scrap! Now Optimus' energon was flowing. Those mechs, even though he could barely see them in his rear-view, had somehow blocked his communications. What did that make them? Certainly not your normal thugs. Former Decepticons out for revenge? Unlikely, given the distance between now and the end of the war. Then what?</p>
<p>Lost in thought like the careless mech he'd become over recent years, Optimus noticed moments too late that there was a truck bigger than him about to T-bone him. He noticed the pain though, real quick. The left side of his chassis was alight with pain he hadn't felt since the war. The impact left him skidding across the road into a nearby comm tower, still pressed tightly against his assailant. The other mech didn't back up until the comm tower was properly bent in half. </p>
<p>Optimus went to transform but was stopped short. His T-cog activated, started the transformation process, but short-circuited. All he managed was a twitch. Had his T-cog been damaged from one hit? Unlikely. Out of all the things Optimus needed replacements for over his many vorns of life, his T-cog had stayed in tact. Optimus didn't have long to ponder, because his attacker was gearing up for another hit. Just as the mech was about to slam into him, Optimus reversed. This allowed a short window for Optimus to escape while the mech recovered from slamming directly into the comm tower at full force. </p>
<p>Optimus pressed forward as fast as he could, but one of his axels had been damaged in the hit. His back left tire spun out of sync with the rest of him, twisting out at random. It felt like it would fall off at any moment. Optimus smothered the groan of pain, choosing to focus all of his energy on getting somewhere safe. The nearest enforcers station was his best bet. </p>
<p>A slim, black seeker transformed 50 yards ahead, gun trained at him. Her ruby red optics shined with hideous intent and even in the dim lighting, Optimus knew that she was smiling. "I really think you should slow down, handsome," she said in a voice sweet like rust sticks. "You want to cause a scene?"</p>
<p>Optimus knew he couldn't just barrel into her, even if it was quite tempting. He slowed down, stopping with only five yards of breathing room between them. "What do you want?" He asked. It was embarrassing, being stuck in his alt mode. But there was nothing to be done about that right now. </p>
<p>"I'm not one for talking, sweetspark. Let's get this over with." Before Optimus could reply, a sharp blast of energy swept through his circuits. </p>
<hr/>
<p>"He out?" </p>
<p>"Of course he's out. What, you think I can't do my job anymore?"</p>
<p>"He's a big mech. For an itty bitty femme like you, that can be a lot to handle."</p>
<p>"Crosshairs, I will strip you for parts if you ever speak to me like that again."</p>
<p>"Note taken."</p>
<p>.....</p>
<p>"Frag, that mech's more solid that I thought he'd be, look at this fragging dent!"</p>
<p>"Well, what did you expect from a warframe, Soft shell?"</p>
<p>"Oh frag off, Crosshairs."</p>
<p>"Both of you need to shut up. We have to get moving before anyone notices he's missing. You think all of Cybertron won't be looking for him?"</p>
<p>"And how can we be sure no one's seen us already?"</p>
<p>"Sweetie, you think I swooped in at that moment because there were optics on us? You have fewer circuit connections every sol, I swear."</p>
<p>"Oh yeah! Well you--"</p>
<p>"Alright, alright, let's cut the scrap and get a move on before Landslide has our mesh for being late."</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Wakey wakey,” a gravel-filled voice said. Optimus felt a soft knock on his ringing processor.</p>
<p>Optimus moaned and opened his optics as much as he could. His CPU set him enough warning signals to block up his already fuzzy HUD.</p>
<p>&lt;stasis lock disengaged&gt;</p>
<p>[WARNING] external damage detected</p>
<p>            &gt;&gt;Left Knee Plating</p>
<p>            &gt;&gt;Helmet Plating</p>
<p>[WARNING] internal damage detected</p>
<p>            &gt;&gt;Left Knee Caliper</p>
<p>            &gt;&gt;CPU, extent unknown</p>
<p>{seek Immediate medical attention}</p>
<p>[WARNING] low energon</p>
<p>            {Recommendation: refuel within two XXX}</p>
<p>&lt;distance charted during stasis&gt;</p>
<p>&gt;&gt;approx. 3 megaparsecs</p>
<p>He could barely understand the messages, but he did know that he was in a lot of pain and his arms were tied upwards from his sides. He hung limply from the restraints, his peds scraping against what felt like a stone floor.</p>
<p>When Optimus didn’t respond to his kidnappers, his helm was wrenched backwards by his antenna. Unable to stop himself, Optimus yelped in pain. Now that his optics were facing forward, Optimus could see the blur of a grey figure in front of him. He blinked a few times to clear his vision. The grey blur was actually a large silver mech with black highlights sporting an unusual insignia on his chest. The mech sported a cruel smirk.</p>
<p>“Hi there.”</p>
<p>“Cybertron...does not…work…with…terrorists…”</p>
<p>“What, you think we’re trying to ransom you? No, no, no we already got payed to drag your sorry aft off Cybertron. You see, the 'bot who paid us needs you off world for a while, but didn’t say how long. So, what I’m thinking is we can get paid twice by selling you to the Eurvioya Camps. How’s that sound?”</p>
<p>“Who payed you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t give away client information, sweetspark.” The mech let Optimus’ helm drop and took a few steps back. “Battle mask, antenna, and paint off. Can’t having anyone recognizing him. Feel free to rough him up as much as you like. But keep him sell-able!”</p>
<p>Optimus could barely think. So much information was being thrown at him and he barely understood half of it. The only thing he did know for certain is that he was very far from home and had no chance of escape. Bots Optimus hadn’t noticed before stepped forward. He felt a large hand against the side of his head. The first thing to go were his antenna, which were all pulled from his helm with the accuracy of a mad scientist. After the first one, Optimus bit through his lipplate to resist the urge to cry as his audio receptors screamed at him for their missing data trackers. The absence of his antenna left him almost numb to the outside world, his inside warning signals and agony impossible to get past. He didn’t even notice them removing the welds that attached his battle mask. The last shred of safety he had. </p>
<p>Once that was done, the antagonizers backed up. Optimus could hear the <em>clink </em>of a small piece of metal hitting the floor. Primus, please say they're done. In his pained daze, he had forgotten the last step of their deconstruction of his identity.</p>
<p>Small droplets of liquid fell from the ceiling and onto Optimus’ helm. At first, he thought nothing of it, too lost in the static-filled pain from his antenna. Then, the tap was turned up. And Optimus was jerked out of his head and into reality as an acidic substance was dumped onto him. The acid did quick work of destroying his color nanites and another layer or three of protective metal underneath. A trail of blue and red acid trickled off of him and into the drain directly beneath his peds. </p>
<p>Optimus does not remember screaming his vocal cables raw because he went into emergency shutdown only moments after.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he woke up, he was laying on his back. At first, everything was blissfully numb. He could remember what had happened before he'd been knocked unconscious, if barely, and he wasn't ready for that pain to return. Unfortunately, it only took a few moments of rebooting for Optimus to be gently reminded of the agony he was in. The first thing he noticed was the throbbing sensitivity of his outlayer of plating. His nerve fibers were on<em> fire</em>; the acid had eaten away at the nanites that gave him a paint color and many layers of protective mesh as well. It left every piece that made up in chassis sensitive to even the light draft blowing over him.</p>
<p>Whenever he had been in this much pain, many eons ago, Optimus had always had Ratchet by his side to patch him up. Sure, he yelled at him for being an idiot once he was done. But in the moment, Ratchet was always the most gentle, comforting mech in the room. Optimus could still feel Ratchet inside his spark chamber, but the connection was as weak like TV static during a rainstorm. It was well-known that sparkbonds, while virtually permanent, did grow weaker through physical distance. And because of how much pain he was in, Optimus could barely understand the emotions he <em>was </em>able to receive. Anger, definitely. Fear. Panic.  </p>
<p>“Morning, newbie,” a soft voice said from the distance.</p>
<p>Oh, he had no idea that he wasn't alone. That was a good thing, right? Only time will tell. Optimus didn’t attempt to move his head. “Who’s there?” He whispered, voice box still sensitive.</p>
<p>“Name’s Shifter, and you?” </p>
<p>“Shifter,” Optimus repeated slowly.</p>
<p>“Good to see you still got a few microfibers connected in that big helm of yours. Now can you tell me who <em>you</em> are?”</p>
<p>“Orion,” Optimus replied after a moment. He still had no idea where he was, but he did know that he couldn’t trust just anyone with his identity. “Where am I?”</p>
<p>“Not sure, they don’t tell us where we’re assigned.”</p>
<p>“Ahh…assigned?”</p>
<p>Shifter sighed. “Ever heard of The Eurvioya?”</p>
<p>Eurvioya sounded vaguely familiar; the word had probably resided in some random report he’d read Primus only knows when. He told Shifter as much, leaving out some of the details.</p>
<p>“Ugh, they should really have a presentation for you newbies. It’s a colonizer sect. out here in the Nepos Belt. The Eurvioya basically control the whole belt. What you’re sittin’ in is one of their many prison camps. We lowlife are deemed enemies of the sect. and sent to different planets to work the land as “atonement for the unjust sins cast upon our great Nepos Belt.” You’re gonna see that message carved just about everywhere.”</p>
<p>Optimus had been through more in his lifetime than he could remember, far more than he wanted to remember, and still the universe managed to find new problems to put him in. Just when Cybertron was starting to return to its glory; they’d just started working on negations with neighboring worlds. The ones whom they’d abandoned during the war. Everything was looking up! And now, he's in the middle of nowhere, in a fragging prison camp, so damaged that he can't even move, let alone fight. Great. </p>
<p>“Feel like replying or are you just going to lie there?”</p>
<p>Optimus blinked. Finally, he turned his head towards the voice. It made the tender cables in his neck burn and the rough metal cot he lay on dragged over his sensitive mesh.</p>
<p>Shifter, sitting up on a cot on the other side of their concrete cell, waved. He was leaning against the wall, with one ped dangling off the berth and the other propped up. He only had one arm, the other one ending just below the shoulder joint. They could not have been more than 2 yards from one another.</p>
<p>“My apologies,” Optimus said, taking a slow breath to bring the cool air into his overheating system. “Thank you…for,” he paused to allow a spike of pain to wash over him. “For explaining things to me."</p>
<p>Shifter shrugged the shoulder missing an arm. That led Optimus to notice the universal medic symbol painted onto his shoulder. The rest of his pant was a scuffed up, chipped red with highlights of white around his faceplate. From the looks of him, he’d been locked up for a while.  </p>
<p>“So, what...now?” Optimus asked. He had never sounded (or felt) so dumb and lost in his life.</p>
<p>“Whoever took you in definitely did a number on you beforehand so that’s why the guards stuck you with me. You’ll be allowed to heal to the Warden’s satisfaction and then be put to work. Probably in the mines, with that frame of yours. By the way, what’d you do to get under their plating anyways?”</p>
<p>Optimus knew what he’d done. He’d existed, as a political bargaining chip. But he couldn’t dare tell Shifter that. “I believe they stated I resisted arrest.”</p>
<p>Shifter laughed; it sounded sad. “Well, they certainly taught you a lesson on respecting authority.” Shifter stood up and walked towards Optimus. He had a slight limp, favoring his right side. He leaned over Optimus, servo placed directly next to Optimus' helm to support his weight as he leaned down. “I’d recommend keeping that in that CPU of yours. The guards don't take kindly to rebellion."</p>
<p>Optimus wanted to sit up, move out of the way, give this mech less access to his personal space. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you."</p>
<p>Shifter stood up and scanned Optimus up and down with his optics. "We don't have much in the way of painkillers or well, any medical equipment." Shifter shrugged again. He sighed. "But I'll do what I can to keep you comfortable until you get those layers of plating back. Should only take a few deca-cycles." He paused. "For now, try to get some recharge."</p>
<p>And with that, Shifter turned and hobbled back to his cot. Optimus watched him lie down on his side, facing away from him. His arm was wrapped tightly around his torso.  </p>
<p>Optimus turned his head so that he was staring at the wall; it was the only semblance of privacy he was getting any time soon. He tried to reach through the bond, but the distance between them and his wreaked CPU made it impossible. Instead, Optimus closed his optics and lost himself in the wisps of Ratchet that he could still feel. He clung to them, savored every sweet emotion or passing thought he could process. </p>
<p>He ended up falling into recharge shortly after, body and mind thoroughly exhausted. </p>
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